Unseen Heroes
by TheNocturne
Summary: Sometimes heroes are hard to find. And sometimes, they're right under your nose.


**I'm not exactly sure what this is. Is began with the first sentence, and suddenly it was all pouring out onto the paper and I couldn't stop it. It's not a romance or an action piece or a comedy. . . it's just. . . a piece about them.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, even if it is a little. . . strange. I'll be working on Operation TUTOR this week, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter up. This is my Aunt's computer and stuff, so I can't use it all that often.**

**I'm really tired now. I need to go to bed.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Codename: Kids Next Door, or the characters. If I did, I'd. . . invest in a huge bed. A soft one. Maybe a water bed. Yeah.**

**Have a lovely weekend.**

**Love, Sadie**

---

Down the street, on a windy day when the air is scented with sea and salt and the leaves like to rustle out a dancing song of fall, there is a treehouse that soars above the area nearby, reaching toward the heavens with outstretched fingers that graze the clear blue sky. The branches inside are weighed down with wood and metal, elaborately designed into a place to live. The tunnels twist in and out of the branches and trunk, creating a maze that one could get lost in for what seems like an eternity.

But this is home for those living inside. A place for refuge, a sanctuary in a world that can be cold and cruel. Here is where pixie dust is scattered around in the shape of marbles and racecars, and where the inhabitants swear that they will never grow up. Here is where a child's heart feels the warmth and contentment of companionship.

Let's take a look, then, shall we?

Their leader is often found in his room, with his head bent low and his shoulders slumped a few degrees. He carries with him the weight of a generation, a million lives of the children around him that he has sworn to protect from the evils of adulthood. His brow is tensed with stress as he readies himself to assume command at a moment's notice.

His life is in this treehouse.

The second in command is tinkering with sheets of shiny metal that reflect light around the room. The boy marches to his own rhythm, the taptaptap of a hammer and the whiiiiiirwhiiiiiiiir of the drill. These sounds are his music and his drumbeat and his heartbeat, delving into his very soul to create something that burns inside him, causing him to pour it out into his hands and use them to create something large and humming and beautiful.

His heart is in his work.

The third down the line is art brought to life. She is vivid and lively, and the treehouse sings to her name. She chirps and trills in harmony with the life around her, and her laughter echoes down the halls and into the various rooms, pouring her joy into every crack and mousehole that lies within the treehouse. Her heart sits comfortably on her sleeve, and she dances like no one is watching and does not mind if they do. When she smiles, the sun beams back to her, and the world is made just a little brighter for all the inhabitants upon its surface.

Her joy is in the air.

The fourth is gasping for breath in heavy rasps. The bag swings back and then hurtles toward him again, but he is not daunted; with a fist clenched tightly enough to show his veins, he strikes the bag again and sends it upward into the air. He is anger and rage and fire, with sweat dripping down his face in thick droplets that splat against the ground as he bursts into movement again. He is trained to use his strength when needed, to be the offense and the defense all at once.

His strength is in his determination.

The fifth is lounged comfortably, and sleep calls to her. She is not sweating or thinking or pounding or dancing; she is merely relaxing, and with that relaxation comes a clarity of mind that is otherwise difficult to achieve. She is the voice of reason when logic is needed most; she is the firm foundation that keeps the others grounded during the most demanding of times. Her appearance is decieving; beneath the brim of her hat is a mind that can be counted on at any point in time.

Her place is on this couch.

Together, they are a team. Orange and green, two shades of blue, and a fiery flame of red, all ready to leap into action when they are needed most. They are your defenders, your backup, and your voice of truth in this world where the rules are made by the adults. They are your heroes, disguised as children that simply enjoy video games and ice cream and fluffy stuffed animals on a lazy weekend afternoon.

Their courage is what makes this world a better place for kids.


End file.
